


Mila, the Witch and a Baby

by catslikemilkshakes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adopted Children, Death Post-Childbirth, Developing Relationship, F/F, Healer Mila Babicheva, Minor Character Death, Witch Sara Crispino
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 22:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18397223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catslikemilkshakes/pseuds/catslikemilkshakes
Summary: After the death of her mother leaves a baby orphaned, Mila decides to raise the child as her own. The peaceful life she's built threatens to fall apart when a witch shows up and demands the baby, as payment for a promise made by the child's father.





	Mila, the Witch and a Baby

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for the SFW Primadonna zine - a wonderful project featuring the women of YOI. The zine was made to raise awareness for breast cancer, and all proceeds have gone to the Dr. Susan Love Research Foundation. This was such an amazing zine for an amazing cause, and I am so happy to have contributed to it!

Near the woods that surrounded the tiny village, there lived a witch. She had fiery red hair, and she was always dressed in black—long robes or long dresses and a floppy hat. She was popular with the children; she gave them sweets (sugar cubes), showed off spells that made fluids change colour, and had chemicals that popped and fizzed when combined with each other. Now, she wasn’t an ordinary witch—she wasn’t a witch at all! The alchemy books and medical textbooks around her workspace gave away nothing to the children though; the peasants’ children were rarely literate and complex diagrams and sketches of foreign ingredients looked like magic anyway.

Her cat was always darting off as soon as the children arrived at his secluded owner’s cottage, only to later show up during her demonstrations with a dead mouse or bird. Today too the children were unpleasantly surprised by the cat’s gift. His seemingly glowing red eyes and black fur also did nothing to detract from her image as a weird witch. She scolded him and he looked away, tail flicking lazily before he disappeared out of the window and into the shadows of the trees again. Stupid cat, she’d grumble. The children were her only visitors and Sebastian seemed determined to keep them away. She apologized before the children scurried home. “Bye, Miss Mila!”

The moon’s pale light spilled onto the desk where Mila sat reading one of her father’s old medical textbooks. The candles flickered in the slight breeze coming through the open window. The cat was curled up on the windowsill. The sweet scent of the meadow flowers tickled Sebastian’s nose and he let out a tiny sneeze. She grinned at him and scratched his chin, his fur soft, “You’re always causing trouble, aren’t you?” He purred in response.

The night was silent. Her heart pumped in her ears. She stared at the flowers on her bedside table. A child had picked them for her. Summer months were longer now, and they stretched off endlessly into the setting sun each night. _Father … Why’d you have to leave me all alone?_ At least she still had some of her visitors—a pair of orphaned brothers had especially captured her heart and they tended to visit regularly.

A sharp knock on the front door broke the silence. She almost jumped out of her skin. It was past the village children’s bedtime—maybe one of their parents had a sudden illness. Hopefully it isn’t a sick or injured child. She hurried toward the kitchen and opened the door. A woman stood heaving, her belly round underneath her dress. “Oh, dear. Are you in labor?” Mila asked, but she hoped that it wasn’t the case as she wasn’t a midwife …The woman smiled and nodded, “Almost two hours now and it’s become unbearable. They say you’re the best healer in the village, Miss.” Mila helped her up the steps and into the kitchen.

“I’ll brew us some tea, if that’s all right with you …” Mila drifted off. “Mary,” the woman replied, “And I’d love a cup of tea right about now.” After the tea was made, they sat at the table and Mila struggled her way through small talk. The woman came from an upper-class family it seemed - her voice was softer and more refined than those of the villagers’. She’d been kicked out after her parents found out about her being with child, and she was still young—barely twenty.

“Mother always told me not to trust men—that they only want one thing.” Mary giggled, “But I also wanted only one thing, if only for one night.” Mila felt some sympathy for her, that a fun evening had to have had such heavy repercussions. She patted Mary’s shoulder when the woman started wincing. “Let’s get you to a comfortable room and let you have your baby.”

The sun rose higher and higher while Mary gave the last push, about six hours later. Mila had used an alcohol solution and hot water to sterilize any parts of Mary that could harm the baby’s health during birth, as well as the scissors she would use to cut the umbilical cord. The messy babe in her arms began to cry after about a minute and the placenta came soon after. The umbilical cord was cut and Mila gave the baby to an exhausted Mary. “Congratulations on a healthy baby girl, Mary.”

Only hours later, Mila poured over her books for any signs that could point to the cause of Mary’s sudden illness. She looked over at her bed, where the new mother and daughter were. Mary was pale and clammy to the touch. The afterbirth had been fine but maybe internally … “Mila,” she heard faintly. She turned to face the woman properly, “Yes? Are you feeling all right? Do you need anything … ?”

Mary smiled weakly, “No … I know that something’s wrong and I can see you’re worrying but … If I could ask one thing.” She paused for a moment, catching her breath. “Please look after my child when I pass, if you are able to.” Mila looked away and gulped back tears. The words reminded her of her father, begging her aunt to look after her.

“Yes, absolutely. I promise.” She reassured the ailing woman. Mary thanked her before drifting off to sleep. She breathed shallowly and when Mila brought her lunch at noon, she was blue and cold. The little infant mewled against her mother’s chest. Mila picked her up with a heavy heart and held the baby to her warm and beating chest.

Mila dug a grave for the woman, near her rose bushes in the back garden. She wrapped Mary in a quilt and had a few moments of silence while she stood beside the open grave. An angry cry from her cottage let her know that the baby was fussy. She finished the grave and slipped inside her home.

Sebastian peered curiously at the tiny thing in Mila’s makeshift baby cot, an old basket filled with sheets and blankets and a pillow. The baby had on a haphazardly sewn set of clothes (Mila hadn’t gone to town after the birth of the little one.) She was red in the face and Mila supposed that she’d have to name the little one. “Maybe Mary? After your mother of course …”

The baby in her arms frowned at that (but that was probably just the alchemist’s imagination.) Mila agreed, it would be in bad taste, so soon after the passing. “Marie it is then.” Sebastian flicked his tail against her leg and purred, “You like it too, Sebastian?” He meowed and the baby mewled in her arms again. “You’re hungry, aren’t you, Marie?”

After a hasty trip into the village, visiting one of her patients, and letting the cat watch Marie, Mila arrived home to a cloaked stranger in her kitchen. Sebastian stood in the door frame leading to Mila’s bedroom, his claws out, and hissing at the person. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my home?” Mila demanded but it came out weakly.

-&-

The person turned toward her, “I only seek what has been promised to me.” A feminine voice answered, quite confident. Mila tried thinking back to any deals she could’ve made, “I don’t recall ever meeting with you.”

The other woman chuckled, “Yes, but I was promised a man’s firstborn child and it seems the little one resides here …” Sebastian hissed louder and attempted a swipe at the woman’s clothes. The intruder moved out of the cat’s way and he missed her, barely.

“You can’t have her, you can’t have Marie. I promised her mother…!” Mila argued. “Does your promise include a blood oath and a binding contract?” Mila paused at that. Who, or _what_ was this person? She hesitated before asking, “Are you…a witch?” She may be the village’s resident witch and healer, but real magic?

The woman lifted the hood of her cloak, revealing long and dark hair past her shoulders and purple eyes. She laughed, light and airy—not at all what Mila expected. The woman— _witch_ —smiled, “Yes, I am. I am not entirely sure why you have the babe—would you care to tell me?”

Mila hesitated, “As long as you promise not to harm her.” The witch nodded and sat down at the table, “I promise—I’m not the type to cause children any grievances.” Somehow Mila believed the sincere look the witch gave her. She started the tale and the witch listened intently.

It turned out that Marie really was the bastard’s child. The witch, Sara, had visited a bustling town to see her brother. She was approached at a pub by a young man who was a bit drunk. He then tried to sloppily convince her to go to bed with him but she declined politely. He still insisted, and she had him promise his firstborn child. _What kind of man would give up a child..?_

“Luckily, he fell asleep before we did anything repulsive like that.” Mila frowned at Sara’s story, “But why would you …” Sara shook her head and sighed, “I need a successor—an heir to all the knowledge I’ve gained throughout my life. I thought this would be an easier way. Just pretend for one night and then I’ll never have to be touched by a man again.”

Mila stayed silent and she continued, “I did however find out if he’d had any lovers. The pub’s owner told me about the fight between the man and some young rich girl he’d gotten with child. I then searched for the girl and stumbled upon your little cottage.”

“Did you joke about the blood oath?”

“Not at all.”

-&-

“Here she is—Marie, say hello to Sara.” The baby in Mila’s arms stared at Sara - eyes wide, and blue as the day she was born. The baby gurgled before being given to Sara. Her lovely tufts of brown hair soft to the touch; her cheeks fat and rosy as every baby’s should be. “Oh, Mila, she’s a lovely little one.”

Mila yawned sleepily, “Yes, she is. She’s also an energetic little one when she should be sleeping.” The baby cried less than she did one month ago but still, at two in the morning? Sara spoke up, “Do you get enough sleep, or does she keep you awake?” The hint of concern was probably Mila’s imagination. “It’s not too horrible. I go to sleep at eleven and she wakes up around two. Then I carry her around and sing, for about three hours. She just can’t go back to sleep, I think.”

“We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we, Mila?” Sara said awkwardly, the baby dozing off in her arms. It was true, Sara invited herself for tea almost every afternoon and she stayed until supper. She even bought a few chickens for Mila and helped out in the vegetable garden. By now the children frequenting Mila’s cottage had also met Sara; they were delighted when she turned poor Sebastian into a slimy toad. Mila couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

“Yes, I suppose.” She hadn’t trusted Sara around the baby at first, but now it seemed that Sara wasn’t that bad despite their awful first encounter. “I think that I should help you with the baby; I haven’t really done anything for her. Or you.” Sara smoothed a wrinkle in Marie’s sleep clothes, “I want to stay over at night to help with Marie’s crying, if that’s all right? Or maybe your parents would help you?” Maybe that wasn’t the right question, Sara thinks, when she sees Mila’s smile vanish. She probably didn’t have a great relationship with them … “My parents? Well, I don’t know if my mother is still alive, and my father died a few years ago …” Sara regretted ever opening her mouth, “I’m sorry, Mila …” The woman shook her head, “Don’t be, you didn’t know. You can stay over - I can’t really think of a reason why you can’t. A lack of beds, perhaps, but other than that Marie seems to like you already.”

Mila slept peacefully that night, with Sara calming down the baby with a few lullabies and feeding her warm milk. The baby cooed softly in her arms, her tiny fists held against her tiny body. Soon enough the baby drifted off to sleep. A tiny smile appeared on the little one, and Sara hoped that the girl dreamed of good things, even if she was only a month old.

The next few weeks went by in a similar fashion. Mila got more than enough sleep and she was starting to worry about Sara. The witch never complained about taking care of Marie, but she could see the other woman was becoming exhausted. “I’ll be taking care of Marie during the nights from now on.” Mila announced one morning, over breakfast. Sara, with dark circles under her eyes, tried to protest, “But why? I’m fine doing it.”

“No,” Mila insisted. “You’re going to sleep right now, in my bed. Your pile of blankets is pathetic — why didn’t you tell me?” Sara let herself be dragged by Mila. “There!” Mila said triumphantly after tucking Sara in. The witch pouted at her, “You are not being fair, Mila.” She let out a loud yawn and the redhead giggled, “See, I was right. Now, stop complaining and go to sleep.”

She left Sara and went back to the kitchen where Sebastian was eating the rest of Sara’s breakfast. “Sebastian! You’re horrible.” He stared at her with indifference. Marie watched the exchange with curiosity and brightened when Mila picked her up. She smiled, squirming excitedly in Mila’s arms, and Mila kissed her chubby cheeks. “Who’s my lovely little one? My sweet baby.” They weren’t related by blood, but Mila found herself loving her adopted daughter more and more each day.

Giggles near the front door let her know that the children were there for a visit. “Miss Mila, ‘ello!” A young boy looked up at her with a grin, his little brother on his back. “Viktor! I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better. And Yuri.” He beamed at her, “Thanks to you, Miss Mila! Mr. Yakov said that you should come visit us sometimes.” She nodded and let them inside. Yakov had acted as the two’s father since they were orphaned a few months ago. At first, they’d been reluctant talking to Yakov, and strangers like Mila, but they gradually came out of their shells.

The boys sat at the table and Victor’s younger brother, Yuri, avoided Mila’s gaze. “Could you hold Marie for me, Viktor?” The boy perked up, “Can I really?” The baby smiled again, and Viktor took her from the woman. Mila offered the boys milk and biscuits. “Biscuit?” It was Yuri and he peeked over at her, shyly. “Here you go, Yuri.” Viktor devoured the biscuits while Yuri took tiny nibbles between sips of milk. “Do you like them?” Viktor responds positively. “Not really.” Four-year-old Yuri spoke up. Mila held back a chuckle at the child’s earnestness.

“Kitty!” Sebastian caught Yuri’s eye and was engulfed by tiny arms. Marie wriggled impatiently in Viktor’s arms, and Mila looked up to see Sara standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. “Hello, you two.” The boys loved Sara as well and Yuri was more affectionate by giving the woman hugs. “Sara,” he said breathlessly when he clung to her leg. Sara bent down and hugged the boy tightly, “Hello, Yuri. Did you miss me?” He buried his face in her neck. Sara glanced at Mila—the redhead’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

Viktor coughed, returning the attention to him, “Which one of Marie’s mommies wants her?” The question was unexpected and embarrassing—Mila blushed more obviously than Sara. “Viktor, remember when I told you that Marie is like you?” Viktor thought for a second before he replied, “Yes, but you’re her new mommies, right? Yakov said people who love each other have babies.” Marie hiccuped loudly, breaking the tension in the room.

“Well, Mila and I may not love each other—but I think we at least like the other.” Sara winked at Mila and Mila wanted to disappear. “Well, Marie’s very lucky—you’re so nice, Miss Mila and Sara. I’d love to be your baby.” Viktor said quietly. Yuri nodded seriously, “Mommies are good.”

“Oh Viktor …” He hugged Mila and Marie. “We’ll always be here for you and Yuri—we love you and your brother.” The boys stayed for another two hours, Mila amusing them with some basic chemistry and Sara turning Sebastian into a toad _again_. The two women walked the boys home and Yakov thanked them for keeping an eye on the children. “Oh, it’s always lovely having them over.”

Marie napped in Mila’s arms on the journey back to the cottage. The air was heavy and the two didn’t talk. “Did you really mean what you said to Viktor?” Sara responded, “Maybe. Yes.” Mila stayed silent for the rest of the walk. She stopped at the entrance of their home, “I’d like that.” She kissed Sara’s cheek, then opened the door, “Are you coming in?”


End file.
